Delicate
by Aislinn Haligh
Summary: A SusanPeter fic. Warning: Incest Chapter 5: They were gone. Each person she had ever loved was gone, and would never be coming back to her.
1. Chapter 1: Kiss

Delicate 

(Inspired by Damien Rice's song "Delicate" from his album _O_)

Chapter 1: 

"_We might kiss_

_When we are alone_

_Nobody's watchin'_

_Might take ya home"_

Longing gazes and stolen touches could never quite make the time in between sufferable. They were children who had their first taste of something deliciously sweet, and therefore snuck back in the kitchen when no one was looking for a bit more. In his dreams he could smell the wild flowers that adorned her hair in spring. She still thought he smelled of pine and fresh earth and everything that was Narnia.

Narnia was but a memory to Susan Pevensie; a childish game that her siblings would play on rainy days or boring train rides to pass the time. Leave it to Susan's logic to convince her once again that she was being delusional and that it never had happened.

It was easier to forget something that she could not return to.

Peter had a faith that faltered but he never forgot. He willed himself not to. On occasion he would find himself staring at the lions in London zoo and comparing them to _Him_. There were times he stopped believing only to hear of Lucy and Edmund's latest tale and ponder why he doubted only to fall again. The stories only helped so much.

It was during one of these doubtful times that Peter found his true connection to Narnia. When it became so real he could feel the crown on his head and the sword by his side. He swore that if he reached down, there would be cool metal in his grasp carrying the weight of a warrior.

The day had begun quite miserably, as most rainy; summer days occasionally do in England. Their mother and father were at an adult function, and so left Peter to care of the others. Edmund lazily tossed a cricket ball into the air only to catch it and repeat the process over again. Lucy drew pictures of centaurs and nymphs while she lay on the floor at Susan's feet. Curled into wonderfully comfy armchair, Susan immersed herself in one of the books from the library. Peter stood in the doorway watching them all occupying themselves and sighed. He was feeling frightfully dispassionate and none of his siblings seemed to be in the mood to cause mischief.

Lucy, with her innocent eyes, looked to Peter with a smile. "Peter, might we play a game of hide-and-seek like we did in the Professor's house?" The game always did help remind her of the magical land she found and pretending in their own wardrobe would have to do for now.

"I'm with Lu," Edmund added as Peter gave him a queer look.

"Now that is a first, Ed," Peter replied his sarcastic tone lost on no one.

Susan peered over her book to find three facing waiting for her reply. "Oh no," she began with a serious tone, "I remember how much trouble that game caused last time with everyone ending up very cross with one another." However, Susan's resolve melted when Lucy gave a pout and begged again for her to play. With a huff, Susan placed her book on the side table and joined into the conversation of who would be "it".

After several minutes of deliberation (and a quick round of rock, paper, scissors) it was decided that Edmund would be the first to seek. Playing in their home in Finchley was very different than playing in the Professor's manor. There were less hiding places, and of course they had played so many times that everyone knew them all. Now it had become a game of luck to see who would be found first.

"All right. I'm starting. One…two… three…" Edmund began, with a quick peek to see what direction the other three had ran.

Lucy beat Susan to the bedroom to hide in the old wardrobe they shared. "Figures," Susan muttered under her breath. Soon, Susan heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The sound grew closer and louder the closer they got. Quickly looking about, Susan opened the door to the hallway closet and rushed in.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she found. At first she thought she had run into some boxes until she stepped on something that made quite a distinct "ow" sound.

"Peter?" Susan questioned as she reached out in front of her to find broad shoulders and a solid chest.

"No Sue, it's Father Christmas," Peter retaliated in a hushed whisper.

Susan would have replied with a sniping comment of her own if Peter's hand had not covered her mouth. The light from the hall spilled under a crack between the floor and the door. Edmund's shadow could be seen right outside their hiding spot. Holding his finger to his lips, Peter brought Susan closer to him and away from the door so she would have less of a chance of being seen.

Being pressed against Peter felt odd, as if she had been in the same position before. Her hands knew where to go without her telling them. Slowly, she placed them around his neck, letting her fingers play with the hair that was there. For some reason she remembered it being longer the last time.

Soon the footsteps carried on down the hall to the boys' bedroom, and Peter looked questioningly down at Susan.

"Sue, what are you doing?" he asked, though he refrained from removing his hands from her waist.

"I don't know," came her simple reply as she lightly bit upon her bottom lip.

Both would argue in later meetings that Susan was the one to kiss Peter in the darkness of the hall closet or that Peter had been the first to tilt his head, but it would not be the last time they shared a kiss in this, their secret place.

Flashes of warm spring days, and summer picnics by a sea that was not in England came to them both. Memories of lying wrapped up in each other while watching snowflakes fall into a beautiful courtyard danced across their minds. Kisses stolen on private horse rides in the autumn when the trees changed color emerged from some dark depths of long forgotten times.

"Peter," Susan whispered when she found that she needed to breathe, resting her forehead against his chin.

"Susan, we can't ever do this again," Peter admonished, kissing her brow with so much tenderness that Susan believed her heart would burst.

"But, might we?" she asked hopefully. "When we are alone, without Edmund and Lucy? When we are here in the darkness?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and she grabbed onto his shirt so tightly as to never let go. Hushing her like a child that had just woken from some horrible dream, Peter felt that the only thing he could to was to hold her closer, as if he may never get the chance again.

"One day," he simply replied. "But not now."

Walking out of the closet, Peter was the first to be found by Edmund who felt so much pride in outsmarting his elder brother. Lucy was the one to find Susan curled in the darkness of the closet with tear stains on her porcelain cheeks. With a child's compassion, Lucy embraced her sister until the sobs subsided.

It was not the last time that Susan and Peter stole away to the hall closet. In fact, it was another game of hide-and-seek not much long after that first where they found themselves back at the beginning. This time there were no words, just hungry kisses of longing for something they had denied themselves for so long.

When Peter went to college, they still visited, and when they were alone with his flat mates away, they would steal kisses. Girls and boys flew through their years, but there was nothing remotely similar to the time they shared. They would meet in restaurants or shops, and when no one was looking, Peter would take her home with him.


	2. Chapter 2: Makeout

**Author's Note: I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed. It brightens my day and makes writing so much more enjoyable when your readers love it as much as you do. Also I would like to give a wonderful thanks to my beta Nat who does such a wonderful job helping me figure out what exactly I'm trying to say. I must also give credit to marwen17 on the King and Queen lj community who gave me the idea from one of her fics about Peter writing (it just sounds so much like Peter). Without further ado, here is chapter two. Enjoy.**

"_We might make out_

_When nobody's there_

_It's not that we're scared _

_It's just that it's delicate."_

No lights shone through the windows at the Pevensie house. There was no sound of laughing children, or smell of a Sunday roast being cooked. Every member of the Pevensie family had left hours ago. Everyone had gone out except for one.

In an upstairs bedroom sat Peter Pevensie writing in his most prized possession, his journal. These days Peter found he had so much more to write about than just adventures that seemed more like dreams. The sound of the front door closing caused Peter to stop mid sentence. Closing the notebook, he hid it in this week's spot (for Edmund always inevitably found it) and approached the landing of the stairwell.

There, looking too grown up for a girl her age, stood Susan. Her cheeks were falsely pink and her lips painted an unnatural shade of red. Peter screwed up his face at her mussed hair and smudged lips. Susan caught his eye from the doorway. He quickly looked away and walked down the hall. Neither met that night.

A week flew by before Peter had the chance to be alone with Susan again. Edmund was staying the night with a friend and Lucy had gone on a holiday with a schoolmate's family. Mother and father had a formal dinner party to attend. Susan had spent the afternoon out and decided a night in would do her well. Peter agreed to stay behind and keep her company.

Heavy footsteps filled the house as Susan read in her bedroom. Soon she heard the front door close. Tip toeing down the hallway she made it to the small closet. Stealthily she slipped inside, only to find that someone had beaten her here. Peter chastely kissed her lips as he pulled her down to sit with him.

Curled around one another, in the dark cramped hallway closet, Susan and Peter Pevensie exchanged whispers of what had happened today. Susan spoke of the trouble her friend Sybil had put her in when Sybil decided to steal a tube of lipstick while Susan paid for hers. Peter conversed about the lazy day he spent with Lucy and Edmund down at the park. Both did not speak of why Susan did not join them that day, or where she was going the next night.

Peter held Susan's hand against his heart, while she laid her head upon his sturdy shoulder. Nobody was home to disturb them, yet in the closet they remained, finding comfort in its four small walls.

Susan had long ago removed the rouge from her cheeks and the paint from her lips. Peter had always said she was beautiful without it.

"Peter," Susan began softly "no one is home, and still we are in the closet. Why don't we go downstairs on the sofa where shelves aren't pressing into our backs?"

Glancing inquistivively down at her, he kissed the top of her head. Moments passed in silence with small kisses exchanged to interrupt the quiet. Playing with his fingers, Susan noticed how one did not flow smoothly like the others. On one of Peter's fingers was a bump that was hard as bone.

Susan remembered horses and a game of tag. She recollected Edmund touching Peter so hard in passing that he fell over the side of the ledge they were playing upon, and a sickening crack reached her ears. The rush of running to the fallen King, returned to her as she sat in Peter's arms. The finger bent at an odd angle, clearly broken and a large bump began to form on his head.

Edmund felt guilty. Lucy asked if she should fetch her vile, in which Peter responded no. Susan stood away from them, tears in her eyes. The High King strode to the distraught queen opening up his arms. Running into his embrace, he soothed away her tears, hushing the sobs to sniffles, and soon to nothing. Edmund and Lucy had left with the horses to let Peter and Susan have their moment.

"I thought I…" Susan began, then corrected herself "…we, lost you when you fell over the ledge."

"It was a slight fall. I am perfectly fine," Peter assured Susan as he held her close to his frame.

Eyes gleaming with tears unshed; Susan pressed her head against his heart to be sure that he was all right. Though it beat faster, he was alive and well.

"Promise you shall never leave me," she whispered against his chest. At first she was afraid he had not heard her. Yet soon she felt a rough and tender hand lift her chin, and a pair of heavenly lips crashed upon hers.

All other kisses before paled to the passion and fire this one contained. Susan felt Peter's tongue run against her own lips begging for entrance. Gladly, she tilted her head and let him in.

The memory felt real and less like a dream the more Susan touched his hand.

"We were riding horses when you did this."

Peter looked at her with a questioning glance. "No," he began "I did this playing rugby at school."

Sighing, Susan dropped her gaze from Peter's stare. She wondered where that memory came from, if it was just a dream or if it came from somewhere deeper than that. Slowly she brought his hand to her lips, letting them graze across the surface.

"Right, I remember now," she stated in a practical tone.

There was a faltering to her voice and Peter held her closer because of it. He had meant to only give her a small peck, but his heart and body wanted more from her. His mind screamed at him to stop, that it was wrong that one should not kiss their sister in this way. But his heart remembered the horses as he explored her mouth that she willingly gave to him. He remembered not answering to her promise, because he could not make a promise to her that he had the inability to keep.

It was a strange thrill for Susan when Peter wanted more than a simple kiss. There had been many kisses from other boys, but this one created butterflies and fireworks. This kiss could stop time in its tracks, and she pondered if that would not be a bad thing. Her hands knew where to go on instinct, that they had mapped all the right places on his body long before their first closet adventure. Susan smiled against Peter as a sound escaped his throat.

Abruptly, Peter pushed Susan away, only to see a look of hurt on her face. Leaning his forehead against her own, he waited til his heart slowed down and he could catch his breath again. He could not push this any further, not so soon. Susan would understand one day.

"Why do we always meet in this tiny closet?" Susan questioned to try and lighten the mood.

Peter gazed into her eyes and voiced, "I'm not scared. Just, our relationship is fragile. It's very delicate."

The next night, Susan went out with her latest beau. Lucy asked if Peter was having a horrible day, and he gruffly responded no. He watched as she strode down the drive with her arm on the latest suitor. All of his self-control had been used to not punch the boy when he came to pick up Susan. Peter drove himself crazy all night wondering where they were and what that boy might be doing with Susan.

It was eleven when the closet door opened and Susan sat in Peter's arms again. This time she still had her painted face on. Gently, she kissed him.

"He and I, we didn't do anything," she began.

His heart took flight, and so on instinct he kissed her with all the pent up jealousy and passion he had. As they snuggled in the closet, Susan yawning against Peter's strong chest, Peter stroked her raven locks idly with the hand that had made Susan remember.

When Susan's breathing became deep and heavy, he whispered to her "I remember the horses too."


	3. Chapter 3: More

**AN: This chapter has not been beta'd yet, so forgive me my mistakes (it took longer than expected). As soon as the revised version is done, I'll place it up.**

**Delicate**

**Chapter 3: More**

"_We might live_

_Like never before_

_When there's nothing to give_

_Well how can we ask for more"_

The day had begun bright and cheerful, it was the perfect summer day. Sweet scents of summer wildflowers filled the air as a cool breeze passed through the surrounding trees. The strong aroma of the sweet blossoms almost masked the smell of smoke, oil, and hot metal that filled the train station in Oxford.

Sitting upon a bench, smartly dressed in a gray suit, was Peter Pevensie. He was but a shadow of the boy he used to be, and no one could deny that he behaved older than his twenty years gave him credit for. Looking at his wrist, he checked the time again wondering why the important trains always seemed to arrive late. Softly he tapped his foot on the pavement as the nervous feeling crept into his stomach. Turning his head down the tracks he heard the sharp squeal of a train whistle moving closer at a rapid pace.

Brushing the imaginary lint off of his trousers and jacket lapel, he stood in the middle of the platform waiting for the arriving train to come to a complete stop. Hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as passenger after passenger came off. Not one was the person he was looking for.

Walking down the platform he noticed something familiar in one of the carriage's windows. It was a sky blue hat sitting on top of a head with raven curls. Matching the owner as she walked down the aisle, he was not surprised when she launched herself into his arms after exiting the train carriage.

"You're late," Peter said beaming as he let her go to pick up her bags from the porter. "I see you liked your birthday gift I sent you," he spoke while gesturing to her hat.

Susan smiled warmly at Peter as they walked to his automobile. "Well, I have been waiting to wear it on the perfect occasion, and I thought today was it."

Placing the luggage in the boot of the car, Peter opened the passenger door for Susan to get in. Quickly he ran to the other side and entered the vehicle himself. Turning the key, it took about three tries before the engine turned over. Peter sheepishly looked away knowing Susan was used to rich luxury coaches from her suitors and his compared to those looked like a horse and carriage. Yet Susan just kept smiling enjoying the ride to Peter's flat.

"So where have all your mates gone off to that would allow me to come visit my elder brother?" Susan questioned with a coy smile.

"Well if you must know, they all went on holiday with their girls to the seaside," he responded matter of factly.

"And why did you not go with them?" she said trying to make some sort of small talk to keep her mind away from thoughts of snogging him senseless right then and there and to find out the details of Peter's life.

Peter glanced at her with a smile knowing what she was after. "For one I don't have the money like they do. Secondly I did not have a girl to take with me and did not want to be a spare wheel."

He paused taking a breath as he made a left hand turn down a small street that was more like an alley. Susan stared back at him with on going eyes with the hope he would continue with his explanations.

"Oh. That's it then," she said succinctly with a tinge of hurt to her voice.

"_And_," he emphasized, " why would I want to go with them when a beautiful woman was coming to me?"

Smiling Susan leaned over and kissed his cheek. "A better answer."

Finally the car came to a halt outside of an old brick building. Getting out of the vehicle, Peter made his way to Susan's side to open the door for her. His well bred manners made it impossible for him not to. Susan stared at the building, marveling at the history it must have had. Losing herself in her daydream, Susan did not notice Peter joining her with the suitcases.

Setting one case down he pointed towards the top story. "That's the flat. It's not much but it works. I hope you don't mind a couple flights of stairs."

Shaking her head Susan entered the foyer of the building and began the trudge up the mountain of steps, Peter close behind her. Handing her traveling case to her, Peter fished in his pocket for the key to the door.

The flat was very orderly and neat, if not a little bare. In the main common area there was a small kitchen furnished with a tiny table that could hardly fit more than four around it. A faded sofa furnished the living room with a low coffee table in front of it. A single end table with a very tacky lamp on top stood by the sofa. In the corner was another table with a wireless radio on its surface. By it sat an over stuffed chair that appeared very cozy. But what struck Susan's interest above everything else was the bookshelf that lined a wall. Gazing at the titles she saw that there was an entire shelf belonging solely to Peter with books she had given him for Christmases, Boxing Days, and birthdays.

Taking off her gloves and hat, Susan set the items along with her purse on the low table in front of the couch as she gazed around the apartment. Large windows allowed plenty of light to shine in and from them Susan could see the bell tower on the university's campus.

"What is the verdict on my place of residence?" Peter asked returning from his bedroom where he placed Susan's belongings.

Turning her gaze away from the view Susan smiled. "It's cleaner than I expected."

Peter smiled back at her comment letting a laugh escape his lips. "It does help when there's only one of us here to keep the place orderly. Would you like some tea?" Peter offered as he made his way into the kitchenette.

"Tea would be lovely," Susan replied as she settled herself into the comfy chair.

"You'll be staying in my bedroom, which is down the hall over there," he gestured to the left as he filled the kettle. "The bathroom is the other door across from it."

"And where will you stay, Peter? Surely not in your mates' rooms?"

"Oh, I'll stay on the sofa. It's no bother," he replied with a smile as he leaned on the kitchen counter.

Rising from her chair, she walked to the leaning Peter only to place a kiss on his lips and hold his hands in both of hers. "Such nonsense. That sofa is entirely too small for you. We can share your room like we did back at home when I had a nightmare."

Choking down the lump that formed in his throat, Peter felt as though the room had risen ten degrees.The shrill whistle of the kettle interrupted their moment and Peter thought it could not be soon enough for he was entirely too involved with thoughts of Susan in his bed. They sat down on the sofa cuddled together with their teacups planning out the week they would have together.

The days passed in a flurry. One day Peter took her to the campus telling her stories of all the historical events that happened in one place or an amusing tale of one of his mates instead. One afternoon was spent sitting under a very old oak on one of the grassy lawns. Susan had packed a picnic basket, and Peter had brought a manuscript with John Keats' poetry. It was a lazy affair filled with caresses, and kisses. They lived the day like never before. Gone was the secrecy, for there was no one to catch them here.

Returning to the apartment, Susan accosted Peter as soon as he stepped through the door. Peter of course returned her kisses with his own. Very quickly Susan found herself pressed against the hall wall, Peter's body against hers as his hands mussed her hair and his lips trailed kisses down her long neck.

Peter smiled as a purr escaped from Susan. Soon he found her hands unbuttoning his shirt and though he desperately wanted her to continue he knew that if they crossed that line, he could never forgive himself. One day he knew there would be a right time, but that day was not today. He did not want to taint their perfectly romantic afternoon with lust.

Reaching for her hands, he pushed them away from his shirt. "Susan, no more."

She continued as if she hadn't heard him and merely replied, "Why not Peter?"

"We can't. Not yet," he forced out as the wandering hands on his chest almost made his resolve disappear.

Stopping, Susan looked at him with hurt in her eyes, the tears beginning to pool. "So that's it, is it Peter? You take everything from me and give nothing back," she spoke roughly, charging into his bedroom and throwing her things hastily back into their cases. With a loud thud she slammed them shut and made her way to the door. "I can't continue like that," she continued with finality.

"Susan,' Peter began smoothly trying to edge away her apparent anger, "Come unpack your things and lets talk instead."

"I'm sick of talking, Peter!" Susan exclaimed as she entered the leaving room. "All I hear is talk. "

"Susan…" Peter began only to be interrupted by his sister.

"If there's nothing more, then I am leaving." The sobs broke through her voice as she tried her best to choke them back. Steadily, like a queen, she began her walk to the door again.

"I have nothing else to give Susan!" Peter roared back at her in desperation, hoping she would turn away from the door. "You occupy my thoughts constantly in wakefulness or sleep, what more can you ask for?"

Peter felt like he was drowning, gasping for air and flailing towards the surface. If Susan walked out that door, he was afraid that he would never be able to repair the damage. His world began and ended with her.

Halting with her hand on the door handle, she lifted her head.

"What of your heart, Peter? If I do not have that, then there is no use for us to carry on like this."

The salty tears fell upon her cheeks leaving trails of pain and sorrow. There she waited, wondering if she did leave could they go back to being just brother and sister, if they could return to what they had before. She could pretend to forget, but she knew that if he found someone else, a piece of herself would die, much like it did when Aslan had said she was too grown up to return.

Three long strides were all it took Peter to reach Susan. With great speed, he whipped her around pressing her body between his own and the door. Gently he brushed away the tears that fell from her eyes, caressing her porcelain cheeks with his thumb.

"You have always had my heart, Susan. Before I ever even knew I had given it to you."

Pressing his lips against hers with hunger, Susan knew she need never ask for more, for she had everything in Peter.


	4. Chapter 4: Make Love

AN: Alright, this is the chapter that defines the rating for the entire fic. If you were going to skip any chapter solely based on the incest premise, this would be it.

Delicate Chapter 4: Make Love 

"_We might make love _

_In some sacred place _

_That look on your face _

_Is delicate"_

Susan had come to the conclusion that there was a stark difference between sex and making love. Sex was raw and lustful. It was a physical need that only left one satiated when the act was done. Making love however, was tender and gentle. The touches and caresses each held a meaning that words would not be able to translate. Tonight she understood the difference between the two.

The two other boys had fumbled too much, and she hoped before it had even begun that it would be over. She made it through the days after by saying it was just sex, it did not mean anything. With her lover however, what they had just done was so much more than sex.

Laying in the quiet dark of a small flat in Oxford, Susan wrapped the cream coloured sheet around her as she watched the rise and fall of her lover's chest. His golden locks fell into his eyes as he mumbled something about chasing after a stag. Softly, Susan pressed her lips against Peter's cheek and rose from the bed.

The early morning breeze felt chilly against her bare shoulders. Glancing at the alarm clock, she saw that it was almost five o'clock in the morning.

Striding to the bedroom window, she looked at the dusky clear sky. Sunlight and moonlight were just beginning their battle over who owned the heavens, and the star was gradually winning.

A feeling of nostalgia swept through Susan's being. The emotion was so strong, she braced herself against the frame of the window to prevent collapsing. Tears came to her eyes as she glanced at the rise of the early morning light, remembering another life, another time when these things had happened. The memory played in her mind as though she was living it again.

Less than four days had passed when High King Peter returned from his battle in the north against the giants. The procession to Cair Paravel for his return was a grand affair, but he could not help but notice that many of the creatures were missing. Then he remembered about the message of a brigade being sent to the borders to aid Archenland against a Calormen attack. Such news had wearied his heart, but now he was home.

Upon hearing the shouts of joy that the High King had returned, Susan gathered her skirts and ran with the speed of Hermes to the entrance hall to great her beloved brother. Many would say that when Queen Susan the Gentle first gazed upon the High King, she began to glow with the radiance of some heavenly creature.

Peter turned to gaze at Susan, believing she had never seemed more beautiful to his eyes. An eternity passed between the two until they both met half way into and embrace filled with kisses. Finally Susan relinquished her hold on her brother admonishing him to go take a bath and change.

"Always the mother," Peter mumbled under his breath, only to have Susan slap his arm gently.

"I heard that," she said through a small chuckle.

When Peter was finished being waited upon by what servants remained, he entered Susan's private sitting room only to find her waiting there with a tray of cakes and a hot drinks. Smiling, the High King took seat next to his fair maiden, gently playing with her hand that rested upon her lap.

"Edmund and Lucy are then still at battle?" Peter asked, the worry for his other siblings edging his usually stoic face.

"Aye, they remain there," Susan replied. In her heart she knew questions would soon be asked about what exactly had happened between the suitor, Prince Rabadash, and herself.

"Since none of the servants can enlighten me on why Archenland is under siege, perhaps you can, dear sister," he spoke with that crooked smile that he used to only get to Susan. "Did you not just return from visiting the dear prince?" The statement came with a tone of hatred, as it always did when the High King spoke of his sister's suitors.

Sighing, Susan let go of his hand. Walking away from him, she tried to put as much physical distance between them as she could. Taking a deep breath, she fumbled with the hem of her bodice before she spoke.

"Oh Peter!" she began, already the sobs coming to her voice. "It was truly horrible. You were wise to Rabadash all along. Edmund and I took flight when it was realized that he was false."

The anger began to edge away Peter's stoic façade. He could never keep his emotions fully at bay when it came to matters of his siblings, most importantly Susan.

"What did he do?" Peter grinded out, his voice becoming harsher the more he spoke.

"He was planning on taking me captive, Peter. If we had not escaped, Edmund would have been put in prison or killed, and I would have been made his slave," Susan wept, not being able to keep the story from Peter. "When he found out about our absence, he summoned an army. His plan was to take me away by force if he must. They would conquer Archenland to get to me, Peter."

Turning around to face Peter, Susan wanted to rush into his arms and have him say that she was safe. She wanted to see calm and undisturbed Peter sitting there upon her sofa. Instead she met a force of nature.

With a primal yell, Peter tossed over the small table that sat in front of him. The smashing of glass caused some of the servants to run in only to be yelled at to get out very forcibly by the King. No one could remember his anger being so strong.

"How dare they!" Peter shouted, his anger not ebbing away. "Attack an innocent neighbor to steal a monarch of Narnia. We cannot let this be. We will march to Tisroc's Palace and show them a real war."

Susan gasped at Peter's words. There were times when battle was necessary. She knew this to be true, but she never wanted her subjects and her siblings going to war over something like this.

Calmly she walked to Peter in slow strides, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Still he had his back to her, seething with fury more so at himself for almost losing Susan than at Rabadash for trying to take her. Softly, Susan wrapped her arms around Peter, noticing how the anger began to ebb away from him. She could feel his body jolt as he tried to suppress the tears he held.

Hushing him, she softly turned him around to face her.

"What's done is done, Peter," she began. "I received word yesterday that Rabadash is in captivity and all are safe. There is no need for rash actions"

Holding her against him, Peter rested his head against her raven locks remembering how much he had missed her presence when he was away. He let his lips fall to her crowned head before releasing her a little from his tight grip.

"Peter," Susan started," promise me you will not attempt something rash."

"I will try, my Sue," he said with finality. Gazing into her eyes, he wondered what he would have done if Rabadash had taken her away. The thought petrified him. If Susan were gone, a piece of him would be missing. He would trade being the High King just to know she would be with him always.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair.

"And I you," she replied.

For the first time, Susan felt truly like a queen. Peter's caresses were so gentle, she felt as though he was worshipping her. Her hands entangled themselves in Peter's golden mane. Soon the gentleness of the touches became frenzied and their need to be closer to each other grew with each kiss.

Peter's hands found the clasp to her dress. Pulling away, he looked at her with the unspoken question in his eyes. He would stop if she said to, but he need to know now before he was too far to stop. Her reply was a series of kisses upon his newly shaven jaw, and her hands unclasping his belt. It was all the permission Peter needed before he undid the clasps and strings to her gown.

The ground was covered with their clothing as they gazed at each other for the first time. She never looked more beautiful to Peter. Stripped down to her soul, she was still the most elegant creature he had ever seen. Taking Peter's hands in her own, she led him away into her bedroom, locking the door once they entered.

Shyly approaching him, Susan felt unworthy of such a great man's love and affection. He pulled her into him, his lips trailing fire down her neck. The cool sheets caused a shiver to run up her spine as he laid her upon the silken bedclothes. His lips traveled along her collarbone and soon made their pathway to her breasts. Susan felt she was suffocating from the want of him. Everything was going too slow, but she would not rush him.

Like the goddess she was, Peter worshipped Susan's body like a priest at a sacred temple. Yet Narnia was a sacred place so it was only fitting he do so here. The feelings she created in him were overwhelming, he had to control himself, make it last forever because who knew when they would be able to hide away again once Edmund and Lucy were back.

Gently, Susan pulled Peter's lips back to her own. His kisses were addictive in their taste, her perfect drug.

Looking at him with pleading eyes, Susan whispered against his lips, "Please Peter."

Those two words were the only encouragement he needed. Slowly he entered her and the warmth of it washed over him. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but he still was not surprised when a whimper escaped from Susan's lips. For a moment he waited for her to say she was all right.

It was a dance of souls as lips grazed flesh, hands explored places they had only imagined, and their bodies joined. They met in perfect strokes, and his name escaping Susan's lips over their labored breaths was the most wondrous chorus he had ever heard.

Too soon he felt her walls clench around him and with one final thrust he groaned his pleasure. The image of her face, so serene and delicate, as they finished would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life, but now as the sheets tangled around their glistening bodies, he didn't care.

After another long session, Susan found relief in just staring at her lover as he slept. She could see the boy he was somewhere underneath the man before her. Smiling, she placed a kiss on his brow and gently climbed out of their bed.

Wrapping herself in the cerulean bed cloth, Susan made her way to her bedchamber window, watching as the western sky began to relinquish the last hues of darkness. In her head she knew there had to be guilt, but she felt none, for it was too right.

Peter awoke to an angel framed by the window. She glowed with love and passion. Calming himself from taking her again right then and there, he approached her quietly. He chuckled as she jumped when his arms snaked around her waist, his lips leaving a searing kiss against her bare shoulder.

"If you do that we may never leave this chamber," Susan mockingly admonished him.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Peter questioned. However he would not receive an answer because the horns and trumpets blared with the arrival of King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant.

Peeking out the bedchamber door, Peter found that a new set of tunics had been left folded by the door for him. "_Sometimes it is wonderful being king,"_ he thought to himself. Quickly the two lovers changed to greet their returning siblings.

King Edmund and Queen Lucy noticed there was a change in their brother and sister. They radiated glory and grace like no one they had seen before. Shrugging it off Ed and Lucy were just glad to be home finally.

None of the servants spoke of what they heard or saw when the other two royals were away. When asked by King Edmund why Susan's table was being replaced, they said that a clumsy servant had fallen on it. Lucy sometimes wondered why Peter's study was locked or he told her he was busy when clearly Susan was in there with him. Then she thought perhaps it had to do with another suitor's letter and proposal.

Most meetings between High King Peter and Queen Susan started with the business of her turning down another prince or lord, yet they always ended with one of them sneaking back into their own chamber early in the morning. However, it did not take long before they could stop sneaking around.

Susan tore up the letter from another lord in a fit of anger. Could they not see that she would never leave Narnia? Peter had calmed her down, assuring her that she would never have to leave unless she wanted to. Letting his lips taste her own, they both jumped apart when Lucy jumped out with a "Ha!" Peter looked at Susan, who was looking at Peter, both being watched by their littlest sister.

"I knew it!" Lucy began with a cheerful tone that surprised both Susan and Peter. "You two just could have told both Ed and I, we had figured it out months ago that you fancied one another. Between you, Peter, and your horrid behavior to visiting princes and you, Susan, with your sudden change of mood after visiting Peter, it was quite obvious," she said matter of factly.

"And what does Edmund think?" Susan asked with apprehension.

"Oh, he just wants you both to be happy."

"We are now," Peter stated, looking at the woman that held his heart.

No one was surprised when the announcement of the marriage of King Peter and Queen Susan came. Aslan himself gave his blessing upon the couple reminding them that all is pure in Narnia, most of all love.

The muffled noises of Peter waking brought Susan out of her daydream. _"I was once a queen,"_ she thought, _"but now I am just Susan Pevensie of Finchley and that is how it must be."_

Turning over, Peter looked at Susan, smiling at her morning radiance.

"Come back to bed, Sue," he stated through a yawn. "It's cold without you here."

Smiling, Susan jumped back into his bed and curled into his embrace. In the throws of passion she felt that the cotton bed cloths had become blue silk against her skin. Peter thought he heard the music of the fauns keeping the rhythm of their beating hearts. It felt like being back in Narnia, that sacred place where their love was perfect.

She had tried so long to pretend not to remember. Being with Peter like this eased her pain for at least she could have a part of that world back here on the other side of the wardrobe. But when she was not with Peter, the aching was too much and so she threw herself into society with its painted faces. There she let the boys help her forget if even for a moment all that she lost, the temporary bliss masking the permanent pain.

She felt like a whore the other times she let the boys' hands travel up her skirts, but Peter made her feel like the queen she was.

_"Yes,"_ Susan decided, _"there is a difference."_


	5. Chapter 5: Hallelujah

Delicate Chapter 5: Hallelujah 

"_So why d'ya fill my sorrow _

_With the words you've borrowed _

_From the only place that you've known _

_Why d'ya sing hallelujah _

_If it means nothin' to ya _

_Why d'ya sing with me at all?"_

Colours faded to shades of black and gray. The world became only shadows of what it used to be. Bitterness filled her heart as the crystalline tears fell from her eyes unto flushed cheeks. The streams cut a river through the rouge, leaving in their wake sorrow and pain. Her lips, once fire engine red, were cracked from the chilled night air. Quickly she felt the pavement below her catch her body as her hand gripped the rail at her entryway.

Susan Pevensie stayed on the wet stoop long after the messenger had left. Ignoring her concerned neighbors, she clutched the telegram to her chest, wrinkling the pristine paper. Looking at her hands, she noticed the tips were black from the ink that had run from her tears.

The chiming of the clock in the hall brought Susan back from her grief. Surmounting what strength she had left, she walked to her sofa before collapsing upon it. Still stunned from the news she had just received, the emotions began to well up inside of her.

They were gone. Each person she had ever loved was gone, and would never be coming back to her.

"No, no they can't be. They wouldn't leave me…they wouldn't leave me alone in the world. Any minute Mum will call, and tomorrow I'll receive a letter from Lucy. Sunday morning I'll walk into the house for breakfast and find Edmund and Father reading the morning's news," she spoke aloud to herself, deciding that by giving her thoughts a voice they must be true.

Somewhere inside she knew it would not be so. Her body wretched as more sobs tore through her at the memories of all those other days she had taken for granted. All the times she could have stayed home rather than going out, and now she would never have the opportunity to make up for them.

Lifting her head from the pillowed arm, she was met with the black and white faces of her beloved family. The photo was taken the summer before Peter left for college. They had a future when it had been taken, and now only she did. Running her finger across each joyful face, she stopped at Peter's.

Slowly the despair changed into anger and rage. Gripping the frame tightly, in less than a second, Susan had hurled the object against the opposite wall. The room became silent all too soon after the echo of breaking glass had ceased. Breathing heavily she attempted to walk to the mess she had created, only to fall onto her knees in the middle of her tiny parlour.

The blood boiled in her veins at the injustice of it all. Blinded by the white fury in her heart, she let out a yell banging her fists against the floor. She knew whom to blame, she knew whose fault it was that her family no longer was with her, and now she was left loveless and an orphan.

Vile words to _Him_ sprang from her lips.

"It's your fault! You took them away! You left me here to suffer, just as you made me suffer when you said I could never return!"

The words flew from her in quick gasps in between the sobs.

"Why did you take all of them? Lucy was so young… Edmund had changed… and Peter… oh Peter…"

Susan began to fall into the pieces of who she was. The anger had shattered her heart, and now there was no one to rebuild it. Peter would no longer be there to soothe away her tears with his kisses, and all she would have is the memories of a forgotten time. Every kiss, every touch, every look now haunted her mind with the knowledge that there would never be anymore.

Her mind waged a war against who she was angry at the most. It was between _Him_ leaving her behind again, and Peter for letting her fall into him so much that she could not remember who she was without him.

"_If Peter really loved me, he wouldn't have left me here alone."_

The memory of their last conversation was too fresh in her mind. They had argued over the rings Professor Kirke had told them about. Peter was angry that Susan would not join them on the search for the enchanted objects. Susan was cross because Peter wanted more than she had to give. He now had everything he wanted, and she was left with nothing except jaded memories, and a doubting love.

"Why would _you_ let us have something so beautiful only to take it away again when it was finally regained?" she said quietly to the shadows.

Borrowed words filled the proceeding days. What few persons remained in her life filled her sorrows with their phrases of condolences and sympathies. Nodding her head, she let them pass by her. Her tears no longer flowed for she ran out long before the hymns and sermons began.

The notion of a loving God became a joke to her. Everywhere she looked there was more suffering, which only added to her own. She could not help but question why a God whose purpose was to love and protect would forget so many.

Approaching the memorial wall to all those that perished in the crash, she let her hand reach out for the familiar names. The coldness of the embossed letters did not rival that of her heart.

"Whom did you lose, darling?" a matronly woman once asked her.

"Everyone," she responded simply.

Days carried on and if it were not for the red crosses on the calendar, she would have forgotten that it was Tuesday. Spread about her on the floor were photographs from a crumpled box she had found under Peter's bed in their childhood home. Studying each image, she began a matrix putting together a sequence of chronological events. It was easier to be orderly than to give in to her breaking heart.

Tears, the first of many, began when she picked up a picture of Mother, Father, Peter, and herself before Edmund and Lucy were born. Mother had her hand upon two-year-old Peter's shoulder, making him stand straight. Being held by Father, Susan had a bright smile on her chubby face as Peter made funny faces at her from their Mother's side. He always knew how to make her smile.

Wiping her eyes, she moved on to the next photograph in the many she had left to sort. Lucy, Edmund, and Susan were all visible; therefore Susan determined that Peter must have taken the picture. She remembered this day. It was before nylons, lipsticks, and boys. This was when she still believed. On a blanket by the seashore rested three children. Lucy was curled into Susan's side, with Edmund on the other holding on to his elder sister's hand. Even in their sleep they seemed to know that Susan was slowly drifting away from them, away from Narnia.

Placing the photograph in a row with others, she pressed on though the pain ripped her heart into more pieces. This one was of her only. If she recognized the building right, and the two girls on either side of her, this picture was taken when she was at choir practice, right when she stopped believing. That same day, Peter had asked her why she sang hymns when the words meant nothing to her. Being cross with him she replied that it was better than nothing at all.

Those words meant more than just chorals and melodies. She spoke of how Peter and herself had been dancing around each other since the game of hide and seek. It went back to an argument they had when she was about to go out with another boy. He asked her in a furious tone why she let herself be a toy to those other boys. Her answer was the same, that it was better than having nothing at all with him.

Gripping the photograph, she ripped it in two. That Susan had died in the train wreck with everything else. This was her burial and her rebirth.

Her finger gently traced the border of the last photograph. Sitting under their picnic spot at Oxford, Peter had Susan wrapped in his arms, and she was kissing his cheek. They had asked a fellow who was walking by to take a picture of them, and he obliged willingly. The elder man was accompanied by his wife who gushed about how darling a couple Peter and Susan were as she and her husband returned on their walk. Creases marked the smooth glossy surface. This photograph had been folded over and over again as if it had been in a hiding spot, or a back pocket.

Smoothing out the surface as best as she could, Susan began to walk up the stairs of her childhood home. Her eyes kept to the picture, however her feet knew where she had to go. Reaching out her hand, she turned the doorknob and entered darkness. Closing the door, she curled up on the floor, the photograph still in her hands. In the darkness of the small hallway closet, she let herself sob in defeat. She was back where her story began. It was only fitting that this is where it would end.

Yet, their story had not begun here. Slowly bright violets and royal blues began to fill her gray world. Crimsons and golds that had been missing since the news was given to her returned. The colours were brighter than any shade this world possesses. For there in the hallway closet, Susan remembered it all.

The feel of the fur coat against her skin as they walked from the wardrobe to the Beaver's seemed as real now as it did then. Her fingers tingled exactly like they would before she would shoot an arrow. Her head felt heavier as if a crown rested upon it again. Kicking off her shoes, she swore that there was lush grass beneath her feet. Soft Narnian grass, and yet it was even softer than what she could remember. A fire burned upon her lips, reminding her of all the kisses High King Peter and Queen Susan would share when either returned from a journey.

"I was once a queen," she spoke softly to the darkness. "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia," she repeated in a hopeful tone.

Warmth filled her heart, and the tears dried upon her cheeks. Reaching out her hand, she met soft golden fur that she had longed to touch since that first time. The wall of pain and despair crumbled as a breath sweeter than any flower and warmer than the most beautiful spring day surrounded her.

"I believe…" she whispered.

Shutting her eyes tightly she saw _His_ face, and she could have sworn he was smiling. She saw Edmund and Lucy running to her. Taking her hands in their own, they pulled her over a knoll. Edmund looked as if all woes were taken from him, and Lucy had never looked more beautiful. Abruptly stopping, Susan saw Peter walking towards them. She tried to speak, but she had no voice. His hand reached out and touched her cheek. Finally finding the words, she asked Peter a simple question.

"Why'd you sing with me at all?"

"Because you were delicate."


End file.
